X-Over
by BeshterAngelus
Summary: A mysterious attempted theft at the Smithsonian is not a case that Mulder and Scully would normally be on. But when it involves a time traveling alien and his companion, it may just change everything they thought they knew about their lives. Perhaps the truth is out there after all. Doctor Who/X-files Crossover
1. Chapter 1

The Smithsonian Institute in Washington DC was perhaps one of the most well guarded group of buildings in the world. Of course, others could perhaps lay claim to that title as well, but the police who guarded the hallowed halls of the many buildings took pride in the high tech security devices, the many technological fail safes, the discreetly installed closed circuit cameras, and the watchfulness of its highly trained force in protecting the valued treasures in its depths. And justifiably so. No one waltzed into the museums that composed the Smithsonian Institute and just tried to make off with something.

In theory, that was how it was supposed to work.

"Hey, Dave, how are things tonight."

"Slow and steady, just how I like it." Dave grinned up at his fellow security system operator, Brian, glancing at the fast-food bag in the other's hand. "Whatcha got for me tonight?"

"Couple of double cheeseburgers. McDonald's." Brian grunted to the other, settling himself into a chair on the opposite side of the console. Dave snorted in mild disgust but accepted the bag with no further comment, rooting inside of the two, wax paper covered sandwiches. In truth, he rarely ever complained. Both men had the look of fellows who perhaps enjoyed fast food a little too much, neither one more than six foot, both thick framed and heavy gutted, which complimented the pocketed khakis and uniform polo shirts that screamed what they were, a couple of computer techies who worked the night shift for Smithsonian security. As unglamorous as they came.

"Tomorrow, you're buying," Brian mumbled, yawning so widely his thick glasses nearly fell off his face. "Nothing going on anywhere?" He began prodding at computer screens, pulling up monitors with read out and closed circuit television images.

"Nah, never is," Dave shrugged, wiping ketchup out of his dark goatee, leaning back in his desk chair until it creaked unceremoniously. "I mean, the occasional homeless guy, crack addict, kid on skateboard, but it might as well be dead." He nodded towards the wide open spaces of the National Air and Space Museum on his monitor. "Besides, who'd want to break in there?"

"Dude!" Brian admonished, pale blue eyes wide behind his Coke bottle lenses, shaking his long, stringy blonde hair. "You know what's in there?"

"Yeah, a lot of planes and space shit."

"And _Star Trek_!" Brian murmured the words reverently, like a saint's name.

Dave smirked, rolling his eyes. "Seriously, dude, _Star Trek_?"

"What the hell do you know," Brian muttered irritably at his co-workers amusement. " _Star Trek_ was the best."

"Right, you keep telling yourself that, and one day you will acknowledge the superiority of _Star Wars_ in this debate."

"Please, you just have the hots for Princess Leia in a metal bikini," Brian shot back, ignoring completely the readouts on the screen in front of him. This was an age old argument between the pair; which was the better space drama, the blockbuster _Star Wars_ or the cult favorite _Star Trek?_ In reality, no one seemed to particularly care for the argument other than the two of them, which is perhaps why they were working the night shift at one of the most heavily secured places in the world. No one else would have to hear it.

"You act as if _Star Trek_ was Shakespeare," Dave mumbled around processed beef and cheese, using the other half of his sandwich to point at his compatriot, dropping a mustard covered pickle on the screen that showed clearly the hallway to the now debated _Star Trek_ exhibit. "Seriously, the special effects in there look like they are straight out of mid-70's BBC."

"Well it's better than overwrought space opera," Brian retorted. "Don't tell me those swords were just for show either."

"Okay, one word for you, buddy! Whales! That's all I got to say." Dave punctuated his stinger with a giant bite of two-dollar cheeseburger, crowing in delight as his co-worker's eyes narrowed.

"That's a low blow, man. Should I bring up Ewoks now or later?"

Neither man heard the beep of one of the computers as a warning scrawled across one of the many monitors.

"Hey, I won't deny Ewoks are annoying, but they are far more plausible than going back in time to snag some whales from San Francisco while making a booty call."

"I won't say _Star Trek IV_ was a low point for the franchise, but at least they were trying to save the Earth. They had a message of conservation there. What's your _Star Wars_ got? Some pseudo Buddhist, touchy feely crap?"

"Hey, the Force is a way of life, dude. Try it out, it might give you some real insight into the universe."

"Seriously, you think anyone is going to take you seriously saying you follow the Force as a religion."

"They take me more seriously than you saying that you have Klingon as a second language."

Somewhere in the distance the sound of grinding and wheezing sounded. It was ignored. The pair were too far into their debate to care. But a monitor noticed. And furious readouts began to scroll down the now ignored displays.

"Honestly, you want to bring up that card when you were the one learning curse words in Huttese?"

"That was a joke! I didn't think it would impress the ladies."

"It was Comic Con! I thought she'd find it funny!"

In the midst of escalating voices, an alarm sounded. Both man stopped, silencing their petty argument as they scrambled to consoles and keyboards. Brian reached his first, pushing back hair out of his glasses while Dave cursed and wiped pickle off of his screen.

"Breach in the specialty gallery."

Dave stopped in his mopping to stare at his compatriot. "You're kidding, right?"

The other man shook his head, looking vaguely ill. "Nope, it's the _Star Trek_ exhibit."

"Fucking hell," Dave swore, reaching for the phone. He pressed the first button on the bottom and waited for the operator answer. "Yeah, get me some men over here, we got an intruder in the _Star Trek_ exhibit."

He was silent, smirking at something on the other end of the line. "Yeah, beats me why anyone would be there either."

Brian wadded a piece of paper and threw it at him.

"They're sending cops over right now. Take a look and see if you can get a visual."

"On it," Brian's fingers flew across the keyboard, clicking furiously. On the monitor, various cameras shifted and flickered images across the screen, black and white pictures of the halls below. It didn't take long to find the intruders.

"It's just some...guy." Brian frowned at the screen, pushing his thick frames back up his nose.

"That's descriptive," Dave, still on the phone, glared at him. "Can you give me something else?"

"Yeah, tall, skinny, in a suit, looks like some jerk off the street," Brian's fingers clicked as the image shifted. "But he's got a girl with him."

"A little girl?"

"No, a hot chick!" Brian's lascivious grin lit up his face as Dave scrambled out of his chair and around the desk to check it out. Indeed, there stood a tall man, hands shoved in suit pockets, strolling slowly without a care in the world. Beside him a petite blonde trailed along, looking as if she feared they'd be arrested any moment. Which, was pretty much what was going to happen.

"She is hot," Dave agreed, ignoring the squawk of protest on the other end. "Hey, I am just calling it as it is. They look like they are just tourists. Don't even expect to be caught."

"Hey, they're moving," Brian pointed out, pointing to a case just ahead of them in the hall. "Looks like they are there for more than just a midnight stroll."

Indeed, the man was digging in his pockets, pulling out some tool, a flashlight it looked like, checking out the case. Before he could lay a finger on the thick glass, however, sirens sounded in the distance. The girl turned first, eyes wide, as the man stood, a look of severe disappointment on his face.

"They are going to run for it," Brian warned, as he took the girl's hand, tugging her back down the way they had come.

"Keep following them," Dave insisted, nervous fingers rubbing over his thick goatee as Brian typed the commands, focusing all the available cameras on the fleeing couple. They tore down the shiny marble, slipping and sliding as they whipped around corners. Not far away, Smithsonian police were in hot pursuit.

"They are headed towards one of the back hallways, near a service area." Brian was glancing at readouts on the screen beside the different camera shots. "Dead end, really, just a broom closet and a storage area."

"They are heading for the broom closet," Dave interjected, shoving a thick finger towards the monitor. Indeed, the man had swung the normally locked door wide open, as the girl rushed inside first, followed by him. "What in the hell would they do that for?"

"They are busted for sure," Brian snickered, as in the image they could see four armed figures rushing to the gray door in the image.

"Why would they go into a broom…"

That's when the grinding sounded.

Even where they sat in their command center they could hear it faintly, but they could see the effects on the monitor in front of them. Light flashed from the cracks around the door, and an impossible breeze from somewhere ruffled the clothing of the officers on the scene. Neither man could hear what they said, but they could lip read, and they was fairly sure they had the same reaction they did.

Brian's chest heaved. "What the…"

"Man, I don't even…" Dave shook his dark head, realizing the operator on the other end of the line was now yelling at him. "Yeah, I don't know, there was this noise, and lights, and…"

He stopped as the police finally were able to force the door open. They swung it wide, one officer standing on point, another curling around the frame, weapon at the ready.

But there was nothing there.


	2. Chapter 2

The video was grainy, flickering with the low resolution that CCTV tended to have, but it was clear enough to show the events as they played out. The camera was trained on a random, tiled hallway, nothing spectacular. The dim lights reflected off the high polish, the white walls broken only by a gray painted steel door with the simple plaque stating "employees only". It was a janitor's closet, nothing spectacular, locked from the outside and opened only with a magnetic swipe card, located to the side of the door.

For long moments, there was nothing. And then the door opened from the inside.

A tall man, scrawny, in some sort of pinstriped suit and hair that defied all known hair gels, poked his head and shoulders around the door, glancing up and down the hallway carefully. Seeing that no security were about, he opened the door wide, exiting, followed by a young woman, blonde, dressed in nothing more spectacular than jeans and a hooded sweatshirt. While she gazed about nervously, even doubtfully, the man with her seemed hardly bothered as to what he was up to. The pair moved out of the frame. Other video from other cameras had them wandering about, into the large room devoted to the _Star Trek_ exhibit, but when the returned to the camera in the hallway, they ran, straight for the door. The tall man had in hand a flashlight of some sort. He held it to the magnetic strip reader, yanked open the door, and urged his young companion inside, before whipping in himself. No sooner were they in there than Smithsonian police followed, rapping on the door. Cards were pulled out, efforts to open the door made, but before they had any luck, light flashed from under the crack between steel door and tile floor. A breeze appeared to blow from around the edges of the door itself, and when the door finally was opened, it showed the interior of the closet, containing only cleaning supplies, a polisher, and a mop and bucket. No man. No woman. Nothing.

The video paused there, flickering. "And that's the great mystery. Two people go in and out of a closet that no one should have access to, and are able to escape without leaving so much as a trace. Not even a missing ceiling tile."

"Was there a hole? Maybe a cut somewhere in the tile?" Dana Scully sat perched on the edge of her desk, arms crossed over her severe, black suit. Beside her in his office chair her partner, Fox Mulder, stared at the screen thoughtfully.

"We searched, nothing of the sort." Owen Jeffries, popped the video out of Mulder's ancient and nearly dilapidated VCR. "I had my best people check, we got nada. The room is clear, no holes, there are no ceiling tiles, not even air vents. By all accounts, it looks more like someone simply just appeared in there, out of thin air, and then disappeared again."

"Like teleportation?" A sly smile crept up Fox Mulder's full mouth, earning a soft sigh from Scully and a chuckle from the man who had come to them. Jeffries had the severe demeanor that seemed to come with many in law enforcement, but he at least seemed to be taking the entire situation with a grain of salt and a large sense of humor.

"Yeah, that got around the office on my end, and the irony that they were trying to steal from the _Star Trek_ exhibit wasn't lost on me. Of all the things to steal, they'd want a tri-corder or something?"

"Poor taste in pop culture aside, why is it you are visiting the pair of us?" Scully couldn't help but wonder. Since Mulder had called that morning telling her that an old, Academy buddy of his had inquired regarding a situation, she'd been apprehensive. The X-files weren't run of the mill cases by anyone's stretch of the imagination. Mostly made up of the unexplained and unsolvable amongst the many cases assigned to the FBI every year, the X-files division was known for handling strange cases; UFO's, the supernatural, all manner of unusual and weird events dug out of the mire of rural and suburban folk tales and fears. It was hardly the place where one would find a sort of white collar crime like a little bit of museum robbery.

And Jeffries clearly knew it too. He glanced at Mulder. "Look, not to make of joke of it, but you know, I know what sort of work you guys are into. I went into white collar crimes while Mulder here he did the psychological wammy. I mean, back in the day, we called him 'Spooky' cause he was so brilliant. Man could read people's mind almost, it was scary. Best profiler to come through the Academy since Frank Black, and that's saying something."

"Flattery will get you everywhere, Owen," Mulder snorted, pushing back in his chair, regarding his old friend in mild amusement. "Let's cut to the chase. You are here because you don't know how this guy got in, you don't know how he got out, you have no idea why he's hitting up _Star Trek_ memorabilia, but it all rolled up makes the Smithsonian and you look bad, right?"

Jeffries at least had the grace not to deny it. He flushed only slightly, shrugging in his gray suit jacket. "You think I'm going to deny that it's embarrassing? Already, the board is screaming for review of security measures, and I'm trying to spin it in the media as some sort of Trekkie fans getting carried away."

"And who is to say they weren't," Scully offered mildly, still wondering why in the world this was coming to them. "I mean, honestly, outside of comic book collectors, who would care about any of this stuff?"

"The point isn't how expensive it is, the bigger issue is that this person got in." Jeffries grimaced as he glanced between the two. "Doesn't matter if he was trying to steal toilet paper or a Faberge egg, whoever this person is, they are good. They got past one of the best systems in the world, and no one does that. No one! And we need to figure out how."

"Which means you need to figure out why he was there and if he's coming back," Mulder offered blithely. "Which is why you are here. The 'Spooky Mulder' line, you want me to see if your cat burglar is coming back? Profile for free?"

"Think of it as a favor to an old buddy." Jeffries offered, grinning as he held up the tape. "I'll leave this with you. Let me know what you come up with."

Mulder's green eyes narrowed as he studied the tape for long, considerate moments, before holding out his hand. Jeffries placed the tape in his palm, nodding happily. "I'll see myself out. Thanks for at least listening to my goose chase."

"Sure," Mulder replied, watching the other man wander out of the basement office. Scully waited till she heard the sound of the elevator doors down the hall open and close. Only then did she glance sidelong at Mulder through a curtain of her bobbed, red hair.

"I think he got the goose chase part right. You are seriously going to do this?"

"What can it hurt?" Mulder flipped the tape around in his long fingers, considering it airily. "Seriously, I've had more useless viewing of late."

"Yeah, I saw what was in the VCR before he got here. _Vivacious Vixens of Venus?_ "

"Considered a classic in some circles," Mulder mildly protested.

"If by circle, you mean you and Frohike, sure," she snorted, edging off his desk. "Face it, Mulder, every time an old, Academy buddy or girlfriend from your misspent youth shows up and asks for help, it usually ends up being more trouble than it's worth."

"It's a white collar burglary case, Scully, not a big deal. And besides, all he wants is a profile, nothing more or less."

"Right. And I'll remember that when you are hip deep in it and convinced that it was Reticulans, or liver-eating mutants, or whatever monster you haven't thought up yet." She crossed to her own desk, ignoring the shiver of horror at the still vivid memory of Eugene Tooms crawling through her ventilation space in her bathroom as he attempted to remove her liver from her with his bare hands. "Face it, it's likely going to be some pair of nerdy kids from the college on a dare. I mean, you saw that thing in the guy's hand? Probably the local, Georgetown branch of the Tri-Lambs."

"The fact you even made that reference, Scully, makes you unbelievably desirable now."

Scully's only response was the roll her eyes at his teasing smirk. "You wait and see. I think your old Academy pal is trying to cover his ass, and he's using you to do it."

"No sense of adventure, Scully? No desire to boldly go where no man has gone before?"

"To a _Star Trek_ display? No."

"Talk like that and see if you get invited to the next Lambda Lambda Lambda toga party."

"And I'm sure I'll be so disappointed," she shot back, turning to her email, leaving Mulder to play with his security video in peace.


End file.
